WHN: The Monster of Comus Towers
by Mounty Swiss
Summary: You don't have to be like your hero. It's enough to be yourself.
1. Chapter 1

Ironside, WHN to "The Monster of Comus Towers"

November 1967**  
**

**Rona, Montana**

Wrapping her arms around her body, Officer Eve Whitfield stared out the window over the small airfield of Rona, a little village in the Rocky Mountains. The sight of the heavy, unexpected snowfall made her shiver although the office was overheated. Would they have to spend the night in this godforsaken place?

She turned her head when the telephone rang.

"For you again," the clerk said, handing the handset to Sgt. Brown who was leaning against the edge of the desk, his long legs crossed, a thoughtful look on his face.

Ed listened intently and nodded several times, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Yes Sir," he answered finally. "Except for the weather everything is fine, don't worry..."

And a little later: "No Sir, I promise that I will ensure that she is safe and warm..." Obviously he was interrupted again before he could go on: "Bye Ch..."

Sighing he put the handset down. "The Chief wishes you a pleasant stay," he reported. Eve eyed her colleague suspiciously. This phone call had been far too long just to say this. There must have been another message from the Chief.

At that moment the door opened and Charley Adams entered. He was broad-shouldered and stocky with a weathered face. He was wearing a thick pilot jacket.

"The snowfall is subsiding slightly. We can take off now, but hurry, I want to be in Missoula before nightfall!"

Surprised Ed looked at him. He had already given up hope that they would be able to take the prisoner to Missoula tonight and then to San Francisco tomorrow. He nodded and moved over to Roger Stark who was sitting lazily on a chair, a smirk on his face. The small-time criminal was forty-one, about six feet tall and overweight. Ed took the handcuffs off his belt and closed one ring around Stark's right wrist – hardly was he able to close it like he was supposed to - and the other around his own left wrist.

Adams, who at fifty-five had seen too much of the world to be as naïve as 'those young cops', looked skeptically at the two totally different men and wondered what the heavyweight prisoner would do with the slender Sergeant if it would just cross his mind. But he left without any comment. Eve, Ed and Stark followed.

* * *

**San Francisco**

Meanwhile Chief Ironside was looking out of his favorite window into the rainy November afternoon. He was glad that Ed and Eve had finally been able to track down Roger Stark, the dealer who had sold the stolen painting 'Lady in Blue' for Vincent Longo. Ironside and his team were 'cleaning up' Vincent Longo's business. Longo, art thief and dealer, had been shot during the investigation of the art theft at Comus Towers. Since then they had found most of the stolen paintings Longo had dealt with, except the last and most valuable one: 'Lady in Blue'. Then Edgar Lestrade, a wealthy retired businessman, had heard of the investigation. He had declared that he had bought 'Lady in Blue', not knowing that it had been stolen. Since Lestrade lived on a farm in Montana, Ironside had sent Ed and Eve to investigate. They had done some fine detective work and arrested Roger Stark. Now they just had to take him to San Francisco and the case would be closed. At least he hoped so.

The Chief should have been pleased ... but somehow he had an uneasy feeling when he heard that they would have to pass the night in the tiny village in the mountains. Overnight, too much could happen to two young, rather inexperienced police officers. Brown was a smart Sergeant, but too naïve and often incredibly clumsy. Eve was still new to the business. And there sure was no suitable hotel for her. Ed loved her like a sister, and he had promised to watch over her... but would he be able to do it appropriately? Ironside wanted her to be protected so badly, knowing all too well that he would never be in a position to do it the way he would like to. His thoughts wandered back to the time before the shooting, and he grieved about what could have been between him and Eve, but for that bullet... It should have been himself out there with Eve, not Ed...

Mark, who had got to know his boss quite well over the last couple of months, felt that he was unsettled. The easiest way he could think of to cheer him up was... "Chief, care for an early chili dinner?"

Ironside had to smile. How young his friends and co-workers were. They seemed to be unable to imagine that someone could experience pain or sorrow that would need more than a little cheering-up to go away. But he had to show Mark that he appreciated his bold but friendly attempt to do so. "That would be perfect for such an uncomfortable evening, since..."

"Yessir, I know: since chili is containing every food element needed to support life!"

"Exactly. I can't understand why your colleagues keep forgetting that!"

Actually the old chili joke made him feel better instantly. Like the wheelchair the joke belonged to the new life he had built around his handicap. And it was not a bad life. His team were his family. They needed familiar structures like family jokes. And so did he, Robert T. Ironside.

* * *

**Rona, Montana**

Thanks to the experienced pilot the small aircraft had taken off without any problems in spite of the horrendous weather. It had been about ten minutes ago, and the three passengers had gotten used to the shaking of the 'Piper' and relaxed slightly.

A sharp bang startled all of them. "What the heck..." shouted Adams, but he didn't get any further. If this was what he feared it was – a broken fuel pipe – they were in terrible danger.

For a minute Adams fought against the elements, but he was fighting a losing battle. "Hang on!" he finally shouted. "We're gonna crash!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Montana, somewhere between heaven and earth**

For a minute Adams fought against the elements, but he was fighting a losing battle. "Hang on!" he finally shouted. "We're gonna crash!"

Only moments later the passengers were shaken up through and through. The screeching sound of tearing metal deafened their ears ... And then the 'Piper' came to a standstill: They were on the ground.  
To Ed it was clear that their pilot had taken the brunt of the impact. He stood up and, pulling his prisoner with him, he took a look at the front part of the airplane. There was Adams, pinned to his seat. When he looked his way, Ed saw that his face was contorted in pain. The engine block had been pushed back and a part of it was now on one of his legs.

"Get out of here, the engine is burning," he ordered his passengers in a firm and admirably calm tone of voice, considering that he was facing death if – or rather when – the aircraft would explode.

"Eve, get out!" Ed shouted to her, and to Stark: "Give me a hand!" Then he turned around, intending to remove the heavy block and free Adams.

Stark didn't show the slightest inclination to comply. He took advantage of the situation instead. He attacked the Sergeant who at this instant wasn't paying any attention to him. Two, three times he managed to hit Brown, using his weight as leverage. Obviously he wanted to get the key to the handcuffs. Ed cursed himself for being distracted – and his prisoner for being so selfish in such danger. In the narrow aircraft, his superior height being no help at all, he could hardly retaliate. He had to act quickly since Stark kept hitting him, knocking the wind out of his lungs and keeping him in a defensive mode.  
Ed finally managed to pull Stark out of the burning wreck – of course only because Stark didn't resist. But then he turned his back to Stark for a split second and threw him over his shoulder in the best judo technique. He pulled his gun and the prisoner froze.  
Ed threw Eve, who had come back during the short fight, a quick look, and she was trained enough to understand what he wanted her to do. She pulled her weapon too. The Sergeant opened his side of the handcuff and put it around Stark's left wrist before the perplexed man was able to pull himself together, and took two steps back. "Now get up and take five steps away from the aircraft!" Stark did as he was told.

Carefully keeping her distance from the violent man Eve directed him further away from the dangerous fire.

Meanwhile Ed hastened back into the aircraft.  
"Get out, son! The kerosene may explode any moment!" Adams shouted.  
Of course Ed didn't listen. With all his strength he tried to lift the engine block. He didn't stand a chance.

"Leave me, or we're both going to buy the farm!" Obviously he didn't know Sgt. Edward Brown.  
Ed noticed that the joystick somehow had been broken out of its unit. He picked it up and used it as a lever. Adams was able to pull his broken leg out from under the engine, almost fainting because of the pain this caused.

Ed couldn't avoid hurting him some more by pulling him out of the 'Piper'. Once outside he shouldered Adams' compact body. For a moment he staggered under the considerable weight, but he quickly regained his balance and, with him in the fireman's carry, he ran away from the burning aircraft as quickly as he could.

Eve was holding Stark at gunpoint. They were a good bit ahead of Ed with his burden, and Eve looked back asking herself if she could be of any assistance. At this instant a huge flame shot out of the 'Piper' and its tank exploded. Ed was knocked off his feet. He tried to avoid falling onto Adams' legs and hit the ground at an awkward angle. For a minute they were both lying there, trying to get their breath back. Then Ed picked himself up and anxiously addressed Adams: "I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

"No worse than two minutes ago," answered the pilot. Eve came by with the prisoner.

Ed sighed in relief but he had to face the next problem immediately: "Sir, did you manage an emergency call before we crashed?"

"Don't call me 'Sir'. My name's Charley. That was a stupid thing to do, son, but I am glad you did it. Thank you. About the 'mayday' I don't know. I tried but probably too late."

"We can't stay here or we will freeze to death within a few hours. Do you know if there are any farms or lodges around here?"

"No. There may be some shacks further down in the forest, but I don't think that I could find them. We wouldn't be able to find the trails people use to get to them because they are covered by snow. And of course there's nobody there at this time of year."

"Is there any chance that we could walk back to the airfield?"

"That's quite ambitious, young man. I'd say that we are more than 40 miles away from it – airline distance of course."

"We don't have much choice, I'm afraid," Ed stated.

Adams nodded. "There's a road leading from the airfield to this area, although a lot further north. If we don't arrive in Missoula soon, air control will call Rona airport. Of course they won't know where we are, but if Rona send out a search party for us, they could use that road, I suppose."

"Then that's where we are headed, agreed?"

"Agreed," Adams nodded again.

It kept amazing Eve how Ed was able to stay focused in difficult situations and take decisions – but as soon as Chief Ironside was present he acted like a school boy, was unconfident and made silly mistakes while trying to please the Chief. Now he naturally took the initiative, calm and level-headed.

The high plateau looked more or less flat but it was covered with big stones and rocks: a stone desert without any trail. There were about eight inches of powder snow: impossible to build an igloo out of it which would protect them. A sharp, cold wind arose and penetrated their clothes. To make matters worse, it started snowing again.

Ed noticed that Eve was shivering. This was definitely no place for a woman like her, and her clothes were a lot less adequate for this weather than his own. Stark was wearing a heavy fur coat and Adams had his warm pilot jacket. He felt bad for Eve, but there was not much he could do. He remembered only too well his promise to the Chief that he would keep her warm and safe. He would have to worry about her safety later, but at least he would not let her freeze any longer. "Eve, take my coat, I'm warm enough," he lied.  
Of course she declined his offer. Then she saw the look on his face and changed her mind: He was feeling responsible for their situation and would feel even worse seeing her shivering than being cold himself. "Thank you, Ed." And after a moment of thought she added: "We will get back safely. I trust you." He answered with a shadow of his usual smile.

"And how do you plan to get me there?" asked Adams, convinced that the Sergeant wouldn't under any circumstances leave him behind. He knew this kind of man: It was his own kind. Giving his coat to his colleague had only confirmed Adams' opinion.

Ed was already looking for a piece of metal from the airplane to use as a makeshift splint. He found one with a sharp bend. The short part of it would support Adams' foot. Eve helped him fix the splint around Adams' broken leg with his tie and his handkerchief, padding it with her scarf. Adams had to suppress a groan while they tried to align the bones. He was determined not to make it more difficult for these young people whom he had already taken a liking to.

"Okay, Stark, we will carry Adams between the two of us." Ed freed the prisoner from his handcuffs.

"Forget it, _kid_!"

Flabbergasted Ed stared at him. Then he pulled his gun.

Stark just laughed at him. "You won't shoot me, _kid_; you don't have the guts to kill an unarmed man. Moreover you are responsible for me. And you can't shoot to hurt me; or else I will charge you with police brutality. Why don't you carry this man yourself, if you don't want to leave him here?"

Ed knew that Stark was right. He wouldn't shoot him. He felt helpless and angry about his own lack of authority. It would be very difficult to assist the pilot alone. Eve would have to guard Stark. He felt sorry for her. She was shivering even under two coats.

"Let's go. And no tricks. Staying here would be cold for you too," Ed snapped angrily.

"I'm all nice and warm!" Stark laughed.

Enraged Eve answered: "Then lend Sgt. Brown your fancy fur coat. You have some fat reserves, he doesn't!"

"Oh no, lady, I won't do that. And he won't take it. You know: police brutality!"

* * *

**San Francisco**

Ironside was having his early chili dinner with Mark when the telephone rang. Mark picked up the receiver and pushed the button of the loudspeaker as soon as he realized that this was no routine call. The Chief sat motionless in his chair, frozen, as if made of stone, when he heard that the airplane had taken off in spite of the weather … and had not reached Missoula yet. It looked as if it had just vanished. Eve and Ed sat in that airplane. _His_ Eve, beautiful, charming, smart, wonderful Eve, and Ed, his right-hand man... no, it could not be. He would not be able to face the fact that...

He snapped back into working mode. Within seconds his quick-thinking mind checked dozens of possibilities. Had the pilot just chosen to land somewhere before Missoula because of the bad weather? Because the weather in the Rocky Mountains was still bad indeed, he had heard it on the radio. If it had been the case, Ed would have called him by now…unless the phone lines were down...

"Do you think that the airplane crashed?" Mark voiced the most horrible thought in Ironside's head, considering that Eve and Ed were on board.

"That is a possibility. But it's a small plane, the pilot might also have made a forced landing."

Their considerations were interrupted by another call. Ironside picked up the phone at the first ring. He fired a few questions which didn't help Mark understand what the phone call was all about. When the Chief put the receiver down, his face still looked thoughtful but not hopeless any more.

"A little boy somewhere on a farm in Montana was toying with his parents' radio. He claims he heard an emergency call and something that sounded like a crash to him. His father didn't know if he should believe him, since he likes to invent stories, to say the least. Still he decided to inform the police ..." Ironside's voice trailed away because he was already considering how to go on. "Mark, get me the best map of Montana in the whole department and a pair of compasses!"

Mark left to do as he had been told. Meanwhile Ironside phoned the small airfield in Rona, Montana.

"Do you believe the farmer's kid?" Mark asked, putting the requested items onto the table.

"If you were ten years old and you had taken your parents' radio although you were not allowed to, would you tell them that you heard a 'mayday' if you hadn't? So the boy probably would not risk a tanning just to tell a lie, don't you think so?"

This sounded logical.

Ironside fetched a notebook and started calculating. Mark watched him curiously. The Chief set the pair of compasses and drew a semicircle with a radius of 45 miles around Rona, Nevada.

Finally he deigned to explain: "The aircraft was a 'Piper Cherokee Six'. Its cruising speed is about 165 miles per hour. This semicircle shows how far the 'Piper' could have flown at most if the time indicated by the boy is correct," Ironside stated. "It's probably less than that, because they had some headwind. We also know the coordinates of the farm. It's situated north-west of the airfield. Let's suppose that the farmer has a standard radio like the ones often used by farmers. In that case there had to be a line of sight between the aircraft and the radio, otherwise the boy could not have picked up the 'mayday'. Since he reported hearing a crash as well, we can assume that the signal could not have come from further away than from the ridges of the mountains. The snowfall and storm had subdued somewhat right then, so the reception was probably not reduced much further." Thoroughly Ironside drew a line following the ridges of the mountains around the farm.

The two lines cut one another.

"This region between the lines" - Mark pointed at the map – "this intersection - is this where we should look for the airplane?" he asked.

Ironside nodded. "If we assume that the airplane was correctly on its way to Missoula when the emergency call went out, which is rather probable, we can tell quite exactly where it would have crashed – if it actually _has_ crashed." He drew a straight line from Rona to Missoula. It cut through the intersection of the two lines drawn previously.

"Problem is that this is a very lonely area. They would have to be very lucky to find any kind of shelter. There's a small mountain road to Rona from where you can also get to that farm. I have been told that the piper was flown by a very experienced pilot. I suppose he would know this road and probably try to reach it."

"Are you going to tell this to the Sheriff of Rona county and ask him to send out a rescue team?" Mark wanted to know.

"No, I won't." Mark looked at him bewildered.

"Firstly people in Rona will sooner or later come to the same conclusion – or rather have come to it already. And secondly I would like to know first if whatever has happened was accidental or if anybody wanted to prevent the airplane from reaching its destination."

Mark was shocked about this possibility. "Because of Ed and Eve?"

"Hardly, as in that case the prisoner would have to have been the buddy of whoever tried anything. Consequently they could not risk killing Stark with them. So, if there is a crime behind it, I suppose that it was directed against Stark."

"And now you think that if somebody tried something they might try again?" Mark asked.

Ironside nodded, but seeing Mark's worried face he tried to calm him: "They may be perfectly fine. Let's stay cool, as you young people like to say."

Mark nodded, although he thought that the Chief didn't look all that cool himself.

"I want to know what happened... and if it was no accident: why," Ironside stated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Montana, somewhere in the Rocky Mountains**

Adams laid his arm over Ed's shoulders, and Ed supported him around his waist. That way he hopped along on the uneven terrain. Sometimes Ed had to pull him up over an obstacle or ease him down from a rock. They were making very slow progress, and both men were breathing heavily after just a few minutes. It was obvious that they would have to rest after a short stage.

They went on as long as they possibly could, then Ed helped the pilot sit down and looked back to Eve to see how she was doing with Stark. In the falling twilight he saw her stumbling in the snow. Immediately he stomped back to his colleague. How could he have been so mindless? He had totally forgotten that she was wearing pumps – not very high-heeled ones, since she knew that they would go out on a farm in the mountains, but still no shoes to climb over rocks and walk through snow.

Stark was grinning sassily. "Now you have a problem, _kid_, don't you?"

Looking into Eve's face Ed saw that she could not go on. He would have to carry her too.

"You walk in front of us!" he ordered Stark, and the man obeyed.

Ed carried Eve while she held the prisoner at gunpoint.

When they reached Adams, Ed let Eve sit down and made her wrap his knee-long coat around her legs and she took off her shoes. Her feet were cold, wet and already covered with sores and blisters. She started to massage them.

"Can you do that with one hand and guard Stark at the same time?" Ed asked her, his voice full of concern.

She nodded and smiled reassuringly. It hurt, but Ed needed her to be brave. She would do everything in her power to support him. She was slim, but still quite a burden to carry.

Ed knew what she was thinking. He tried to cheer her up. "Next time, officer Whitfield," he joked between two heavy breaths, "next time you offer me the rest of your hot dog, I will take it!"

Eve, appreciating his attempt at humor, teased: "When did you ever _not_, Sergeant Brown?"

Ed helped Adams stand up and together they covered the next few hundred yards. While Adams rested, Ed went back to get Eve and Stark, and so on. They advanced at a frustratingly slow pace, but they could not have stayed in one place because of the dropping temperature and the sharp winds.

**San Francisco**

Mark was surprised to see Ironside drumming his fingers on the table. He had to be _very_ worried.

"Mark, right now the only lead we have – except our own investigation about his business - is the murder investigation on Vincent Longo. That was Lieutenant Fitch's job. The case was open and shut but let's ask him if he has stumbled across any helpful information. Let's go, Mark!"

Lieutenant Fitch was shocked when he heard about the possible crash of the aircraft with Eve and Ed on board.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" he asked.

"We don't know if we are dealing with an accident or with a crime. How far are you with the murder investigation on Vincent Longo? Ed and Eve are in Montana because they have tracked down the last of the stolen paintings from Longo's gallery. I thought that you might know something about Longo's background which could help us find out who could have wanted Stark out of the way."

"Not that I know of. The investigation is closed, was last week already. Would you like to read the report?"

"Yes,I would!"

Fitch instructed the officer who had assisted him in this case to get the report.

Detective Bloch re-entered soon afterwards and handed the report over to Ironside.

"If there's anything else – just call me," Fitch told the Chief. "I hope to God that Ed and Eve come back safe and sound."

Mark pushed the wheelchair out of Fitch's office. In the corridor Ironside lifted his hand to signal Mark to stop.

Focused he sat in his wheelchair. He felt that he had gotten a very important piece of information just seconds before. What was it?  
He saw a picture in front of his inner eye: Comus Towers – Comus' secretary, Amanda Stillman – Ed saying that there was something strange about her ... keen-witted, perceptive Ed, who sometimes noticed more or other details than Ironside himself... under Ironside's guidance he would become an excellent police officer, once he would have a better self-conscience - if he lived long enough, that was ... What had Ed said? Just that something was strange about her. Ironside had finished his sentence: That she still looked perfectly fresh after a full day's work... And Ed hadn't said anything further. But there had been something else: The smell of a peculiar perfume. Now the Chief was sure of it: He had just smelled a hint of the same perfume as that day at Comus Towers; Amanda Stillman's perfume. _Detective Bloch_ had smelled that way. Of course it was possible that Bloch's girlfriend or wife or whoever used the same perfume as Amanda Stillman. At the very least it still was a surprising coincidence!

What connection could possibly exist between Amanda Stillman and Detective Bloch? Amanda had been Vince Longo's girlfriend. Bloch might have questioned her during the murder investigation. But Fitch had said that the investigation had been closed several days ago. It was impossible that the scent could still be smelled after such a long time.

What if Detective Bloch and Amanda Stillman had something going between them? It had seemed to the Chief that Amanda was the kind of woman who needs a lot of attention. Was it possible that she needed more than one man to get enough of that?  
At the moment he needed another angle.

"Mark – let's go home," he ordered briskly.

Back to the office he had Mark phone the airfield in Rona, Montana, to see if there was any news. There was none.

Ironside was convinced that there was a link between the people around Longo and somebody in Rona, Montana, because if the crash of the airplane had not been an accident, somebody in Rona had to be behind it. The problem was to find that link in time... or the person might hit again in case their business was unfinished.  
Ironside called headquarters and asked for two officers to help him.

"Chief, do you know how late it is? There's just the nightshift present..."

"Why does everybody doubt that I can read the clock?! Of course I know how late it is! Don't you have a phone? Call the two brightest of your men who are off duty. They can sleep tomorrow, when I have the information I need!"

The officer in charge thought that Ironside had already chosen the two brightest officers for his team. Why didn't he appoint them? Had they fallen into disgrace with the Chief? You didn't object to Chief Robert T. Ironside though.  
"Yessir, I will do that..."

"... and tell them that I need them immediately!"

The officer sighed audibly – but only _after _hanging up the receiver.


	4. Chapter 4

**Montana, somewhere in the Rocky Mountains**

Five hours later Ed, Eve, Adams and Stark were still working with the same routine. Since it had got dark long ago they had to rely on the northern wind to walk towards the road, hoping that it would still blow from the same direction. The darkness made it even more difficult not to slip and fall. Old and hardened Adams had been keeping up stunningly well, but now pain and exhaustion began to show on his rugged face. Eve felt colder than ever in her life. None of them complained though.

Suddenly Ed stumbled and almost let go of Eve. "Sorry," he mumbled, putting her down, as they had just reached Adams.

"Ed, you have to take a break. You are driving yourself into the ground."  
Brown didn't react. He looked as if he was unable to change his course of action.

"She's right, young man," Adams confirmed. "Sit down for a moment."

Reluctantly Ed sat down right where he had been standing.  
Adams took off his warm jacket and laid it around Ed's shoulders. Ed's sweater was soaking wet: from the snow as well as from his sweat. He would be frozen within minutes.  
Ed didn't want to accept the jacket, but Adams objected: "Take it, Sergeant. We can't afford to lose your support."

Finally Ed surrendered and rested his head on his drawn-up knees. The next minute he was asleep.  
Adams and Eve crouched down next to him trying to protect him and one another from the wind.

Just for a second Eve didn't pay attention – and Stark took advantage of the situation: He tried to snatch the gun from Eve. She reacted instantly and pulled it away. That way he didn't get it, but it slipped out of her cold hand. Both of them fought for it: The slight policewoman and the heavy prisoner.

"Ed!" Eve yelled at the same time as Adams said: "Sergeant!"

Ed woke up startled. He needed a second to understand what was going on.

Stark hit Eve in the face and her nose started bleeding.

Furiously Ed threw himself at Stark. Nobody hit Eve in his presence and got away with it! And what was even more important: Nobody knew what would happen if Stark got that gun.

The two men fought tooth and nail, each one trying to reach the gun.

Eve pressed her handkerchief against her nose without being able to stop the bleeding. She was afraid that Ed, who was obviously worn out, would not be able to subdue his adversary, although he usually knew how to handle himself. Frenziedly she sought for a way to help him.

When Adams saw the Sergeant's struggle his thoughts went into the same direction. He considered joining the fight, knowing full well that he would take quite a risk for his broken leg...

But against all odds the still agile Sergeant managed to get Stark into a headlock.  
Quickly Eve snatched the handcuffs from Ed's belt and closed them tightly around Stark's wrists, while Adams managed to get to the gun.

Ed stood there bent forward, hands on his knees and gasping for air, his wet hair hanging into his face. Then he saw the dark bloodstains all over Eve's face. Shocked he stepped to her side, carefully keeping out of the line of fire.

"How – bad – is it?" he asked her, still panting.

"Don't worry, it's just a nosebleed," Eve tried to appease him, without much success though.

The shot of adrenaline provided them with newfound energy – at least for the moment. They went on as before.

Soon Ed saw that Stark's hands in the handcuffs were turning dark blue because the blood circulation was hindered.  
He fished the key out of his wet pants and removed the cuffs. Otherwise Stark might lose his hands in this cold, not to mention the danger of getting hurt climbing over rocks. He hoped that his fierce look would prevent Stark from trying anything soon.

Of course the debilitating weariness returned, but none of them dared to propose another break. Although their pace became slower and slower, they fought their way on.

* * *

**San Francisco**

At about the same time, the damp air in Ironside's office seemed to become more and more sticky.  
The two police officers who were studying tons of files were chain smoking.  
Mark, who was trying to help them, forgot the chili he wanted to rehash and burnt it instead.  
And Ironside, seeing no progress at all, was of course … fuming.

There were criminal reports, military reports, yearbooks of high schools and colleges, phone books, lists of sporting events... but finding an unknown connection between the people of Rona and the people around Longo proved to be very difficult.  
Knowing that this kind of police work took usually days and not hours didn't help: Nevertheless the Chief almost lost his temper. If Eve was still alive - and he couldn't give up the hope that she was – she was out in the cold, in the snow, perhaps hurt. Of course that went for Ed, the pilot and the prisoner too, but Eve, being a slight and fragile woman, was the most vulnerable of them.

Suddenly he backpedaled. There _was_ a possible connection, directly in front of his eyes, in the military report he was scanning:  
Biggels, the Sheriff of Rona, had been in the military service together with... detective Bloch!

"Mark! Take that flaming chili off the burner! We're going out!"

The two officers wondered if the Chief had forgotten that they were there. "What about us, Sir? May we go home?"

"Out of the question! We know that there is a connection between Bloch and Biggels and one between Amanda Stillman and Vincent Longo. We can't prove that there is one between Stillman and Bloch though, there was only that smell.  
Bowen – find Amanda Stillman and bring her here.  
Ross – find out everything about Bloch's and Biggels' army records.  
Get out of bed anyone you need. Use my name if you get into troubles and threaten if you have to. We can clean up the mess afterwards. Meanwhile Mark and I are going to pay a visit to Detective Bloch."

When they arrived at Bloch's place it was still raining. Mark read the doorplate:  
"'Roland Bloch' – no second name, so probably no wife, I'd say."

He rang the bell, and he rang it again after twenty seconds, then after ten, and once more. A sleepy Bloch in a bathrobe appeared in the doorway, mildly surprised to see Ironside again so soon.  
He invited his night visitors to come in.

Ironside looked carefully around. He had to know if there was a woman in Bloch's life who might use the same perfume as Amanda Stillman. But he didn't see any trace of a feminine presence.

"Does your girlfriend often come to see you here?" he asked curiously.

"Sir, what are you talking about? I don't have a girlfriend!"

Ironside didn't have time for finesse, so he chose to bluff. "And what about Amanda Stillman?"

"Am...? I hardly know her. She is – rather was – Vincent Longo's girlfriend, as you know."

"Well, she told us otherwise. She said that you worked well together with Vince Longo, keeping the police off his back so he could do his business with the stolen paintings without being disturbed."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Ironside thought of Eve out in the cold and the danger she might be in if somebody still wanted to kill Stark. He decided to use one of the oldest dirty tricks he knew.  
"May I use your phone?"

Without waiting for permission he used the telephone on the table, turning it towards himself so that Bloch could not see what number he would dial.  
He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket – actually an old betting slip – and pretended to take a quick look at it, as if it were Amanda's phone number which he didn't know by heart. Then he dialed the number of his office, hoping that Officer Ross would be smart enough not to shout too loudly into the phone.

"This is Ironside. Give me Miss Stillman."

He pressed the handset close to his ear so Bloch couldn't hear that Ross was saying that Amanda wasn't there yet.

"Listen, Miss Stillman, Bloch keeps asserting that he has nothing to do with your and Longo's business."

He seemed to listen for a while, nodding two or three times and arching his eyebrows once.

"Okay, I will tell him that."

He hung up before saying to Bloch: "She says that it was actually you and Longo who made the deals. She knew of it but didn't even get any money for the information she gave to you."

"That's a lie!"

"Well, we will find out. I need you to come to headquarters with us."

Ironside could only hope that Amanda would be there when they got back to headquarters...

And she was.

When Bloch saw her he lost his nerves: "You idiot! I thought that I could trust you! You won't make me take the blame all alone!"

"You stupid jerk! They wouldn't have known anything if you hadn't told them!"

Ironside thought that it would be better not to let them find out the whole truth about his phone call right now. He separated them and had Bloch booked in a cell at headquarters.

Ross gave Ironside a sheet of paper on which he had noted what he had found out in the meantime: There were rumors about Bloch and Biggels having been involved in a theft during their military service, but nothing had been proven.

Ironside questioned Amanda alone. She knew that she had lost and tried to limit the damage: Bloch had been the one who made sure that the police were looking away every time Longo bought or sold a stolen painting, she said.  
His buddy, Sheriff Biggels in Rona, had found Lestrade, the rich buyer in Montana. Being an amateur he had bought several paintings without knowing that half of them were stolen.  
And yes, she had loved Longo, but sure not Bloch! She was quite indignant that somebody would think she could have. She had used Bloch, who was in love with her, in order to help Longo.

After that Ironside confronted Detective Bloch with the information he had got from Amanda.

Bloch stated that he did not know much more about Longo's business. And he sure as hell didn't want to take the blame for the plane crash: It was Sheriff Biggels who had panicked upon Stark's arrest. He had been afraid that Stark would give away his name. So he had said that he would sabotage the fuel pipe of the aircraft Stark would be in, and Bloch had not been able to talk him out of that… this at least was Bloch's version of the story.

Ironside was not interested in any details of who was guilty of what tonight. That would be the court's job to find out.  
There was only one piece of information which was really important to him right now: If the pilot and passengers of the aircraft had survived the crash, then the Sheriff of Rona would organize the rescue. He would be the one finding Stark, Eve, Ed and the pilot, and he would likely find a way to kill Stark. And since the other three were witnesses he could not let them live. How on earth could he, Ironside, stop that Sheriff?

Who in Rona could he trust with the information that their Sheriff was a would-be assassin? A phone call might just warn the Sheriff, if he got to one of his friends who sure would not believe anything a stranger on the telephone would assert!

The only possibility he could see was going there in person.

"Mark, I need the fastest possible transportation to Missoula, Montana. That will probably be a private jet. Ask the Binding brothers. They owe me since I brought them their jewels back. They won't say no."

While Mark hastily packed the strict minimum in a holdall, Ironside himself made another nocturnal phone call...


	5. Chapter 5

**Rocky Mountains, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of an endless night **

Advancing would have been so much easier with Stark's help. "This would not have happened to the Chief," Ed said to Eve in a low voice, so that Stark couldn't hear it, and his voice sounded bitter. "He would have _stared_ him into helping."

Eve understood what he meant. Ironside had the strongest personality she knew. Ed could not be on a par with him. And right now he probably also compared himself with Mark who might be physically stronger than him. Yet during the last few hours Ed had shown much more stamina than anyone could have expected from him.

Eve laid her hand on his shoulder. "Ed – you don't have to be the Chief. Just be Ed Brown. That's enough." He nodded and went on.

The next time that he got the chance to talk to her in private he asked, even more defeated: "And just who _is_ Ed Brown?"

Eve knew that her answer would be very important at this point "Ed Brown is the man three lives depend on. He's the one we all trust. He will bring us home safely."

Perhaps she was mistaken – but it seemed to her as if he walked a little straighter after that. With the same routine he went on and on: Helping Adams along a few hundred yards, then going back and carrying Eve who held Stark at gunpoint.

Only his exceptional sense of duty kept him going.

What Ed and Eve failed to notice didn't escape Adams: the looks the prisoner threw at Ed were changing gradually as the night went by. There was no more hatred in these looks. There was something new.

At the crack of dawn Stark took Ed by the arm. "Sergeant" - not '_kid'_ this time - "Sergeant, we would progress quicker if we worked together. I know that you won't trust me with the lady, and then I need the breaks. I wish I were as fit as you" - and he wished he had chosen the Sergeant's way of life instead of the easy one. "Let me help you with Adams, so you can save some energy."

Surprised Ed looked into his eyes, and strangely enough what he read there persuaded him: he could trust the man.  
Together they managed to move Adams a lot easier: easier for both Ed and Adams. Ed could recover during the walks with Adams and use his reserves for Eve.

Shortly afterwards they saw the edge of a forest. They thought it would be an advantage, since between the trees the cold wind would not be as sharp.

Before they reached the first trees Eve kept her colleague back for a moment.

"Ed, I'm not sure about the weather in these mountains. But if it cleared up and somebody started searching for us, they would not be able to find us in the forest. Can't we give them some kind of sign that we were here?"

The Sergeant had used all his strength just to get on. Ashamed he shook his head and answered:  
"You are right, Eve. Should have thought of that myself."

"No, Ed. We are a team. Let's stay the course together." She pressed his hand encouragingly.

"Charley – you know the weather conditions here around. Do you think that an aircraft or helicopter could be sent out to search for us?"

Adams considered the question for a minute. "Maybe yes, but probably no. It depends. You never know how the weather is going to turn in the mountains. Right now it seems to me that the storm has diminished somewhat. But still you would need a big chopper, otherwise it would be too dangerous. And there's no such helicopter around in Rona. Moreover they wouldn't even know where to look for us, except if somebody heard my emergency call, which I doubt. We had almost crashed when I managed to get it out."

"Don't you think that the Chief might try to find us? He has ways others don't have..." Eve asked hopefully.

Ed didn't want to dash her hope. "I hold him capable of that. Let's give it a try and light a big fire. It might be seen even through the snowfall, if we are lucky. Eve, you stay here and rest."

Brown and Stark went to gather some wood. Stark surprised Ed with some quite big, heavy trunks.  
"Thanks, that will be enough," Ed said.

Meanwhile, Adams had already lit a small fire, knowing that he would be better at managing that task than those townspeople. Eve even managed to warm her hands and feet, although it didn't help much.  
The men threw everything into the fire, since they were far enough away from the first trees. Chances were slim that it would be seen, but it was still better than having no hope at all.

Fighting their way through the mountain forest proved to be no easier than walking through the open stone desert, since they had to climb over fallen trees and squeeze between big rocks. It was even more difficult now to keep the right direction. Not even Adams had expected that it would get that tough. His esteem for the brave young woman who never complained although she was drained, cold and scratched by thorny bushes grew by the hour. But he started to worry about the Sergeant who obviously didn't respect his own physical limits.

Several exhausting hours later they reached the narrow road Adams had talked about. At least Eve was now able to walk on her own for short periods of time.

* * *

**Missoula, Montana**

When the Chief and Mark arrived at Missoula airport in the private jet of the millionaires they knew, a man in his mid-fifties with military posture expected them. He looked fresh and good-humored, which was not self-evident since Ironside's phone call had pulled him out of bed in the middle of the night.  
"It's good to see you, Bob – even if I had other plans for today. What you have in mind sounds a lot more exciting than my paperwork though!"

"Ben, this is Mark Sanger, my aide. Mark, meet General Benjamin Davenport. We served together in Korea."

Mark was impressed.  
"Hello, young man, nice to meet you," answered Davenport, already turning back to the Chief. "Let's not waste any time. The windmill you wanted me to organize is ready."

Davenport pointed at a huge military helicopter.

"Now that's some transportation!" marveled Ironside who hadn't expected to get the newest and most expensive model.

"You don't want me to set foot into one of those little whirlybirds in this weather, do you? There's still a snowstorm in the Rockies, although it's diminished somewhat now. You need a decent chopper, everything else is grounded right now. And if the storm gets stronger and the snowfall heavier again, we will have a problem even with this one – and this is the best we have. Plus there is the danger of freezing over."

Ironside nodded. Of course Davenport was right.

Then he saw something out of the corner of his eye. On the lower side of the blades and of the cabin were some distinct marks – made by a rifle or a gun. He pointed at them: "What happened to that bird?"

Davenport laughed. "That was just a boys' prank and a little bad luck. Two recruits shot at it, thinking they had loaded blanks, but somebody had mixed up the ammunition. It takes a little more than a few bullets fired with a pistol to get this machine down!"

Mark was shocked about the way the General talked about mixed-up ammunition. To him, this sounded awfully dangerous... Yet in the company of his old buddy the General seemed to feel young again. Ironside obviously didn't want to spoil his joy, but he could not forget for a minute why they were here.

It was quite a gymnastic exercise for the three of them to get Ironside into the helicopter, but finally they managed.  
Mark folded Ironside's wheelchair and took it with him into the chopper. He was surprised that the General obviously wanted to fly the machine himself.

"Ben, can you follow this line to Rona?" Ironside asked, showing his map to the General.

"Of course I can, it's almost the direct route."

Ironside had already connected Rona with Missoula by a fine line earlier. But from the area where the Piper most probably had crashed, he had later drawn a thick line northwards so that it would hit the small mountain road leading to Rona. From there he had drawn another thick straight line back to Missoula – a little further northwards than the fine one directly from Missoula to Rona.

"I'd like to make this little detour because there is a chance that eventual survivors would have chosen the direct way from the crash site to the road. Perhaps we can see something of the airplane or even the people we are looking for."

"That I doubt. Nevertheless we can still fly that route, it will only take a few minutes more.  
Tell me about the people who were in the aircraft. Who are they?"

"You have met my Sergeant, haven't you?"

"Ed Brown? Nice boy, and quick-thinking. He will do fine, trust him."

Ironside took this as a compliment for himself. "Then there's Officer Eve Whitfield."

"One of _the_ Whitfields?"

"Yes, one of _the_ Whitfields. A very fine young lady."

"Hum, then I sure hope that Brown will take care of her! Who else?"

"There's a very experienced pilot and the prisoner who they should have brought to San Francisco."

Somehow it felt good to talk about his friends as if there was no doubt that they were alive. Right now there was no sense in thinking that they were not. But Ironside knew that even in the best-case scenario they were in terrible danger. He _had_ to protect them from the crooked Sheriff.

At regular intervals the Chief tried to catch a glimpse of the forest below them, especially after they had crossed the – invisible – mountain road. In the whirling snowfall everything blurred though.

Suddenly he held his breath. There was another color in the white maelstrom... a little darker, almost grey... no, not grey... "Ben, can you see that?"

"Uhu. I'd say there's a fire down there. No way it could have lit itself at this time of the year."

"Don't you think that this could be the airplane wreck which is still burning?" asked Mark.

"No, it's too big for that, so many hours later" answered Davenport, pulling the machine higher after he had let it go down.

Ironside would have liked him to go lower in order to see more of the scene... perhaps even the people who had lit the fire.

"Sorry, no. That's too dangerous. But I'm sure that your people – or at least somebody who was in that aircraft – are alive. That's good to know, isn't it?"

Mark could not hide his excitement. He stared downwards although he still couldn't see anything further.

"Let's fly on to Rona and see what we can do from there," Ironside decided.

"Yes, there's nothing else we can do here right now," confirmed the General.

Glancing back at Mark the Chief warned: "The big question is: can we get to our people before Sheriff Biggels does?"

On their way to Rona this sentence hung over the three men like a dark, menacing cloud.

* * *

_Author's note:_

_Thank you very much, dear readers and reviewers!_

_Lemonpig, my beta, does a wonderful job, missing hours and hours of sleep because of me :-) _

_Jodm's expert knowledge about ... just about everything helped a lot too. Connoisseurs, don't miss her stories!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Rona, Montana**

Their landing on the small airfield of Rona caused some hectic activity. Mark unfolded the wheelchair and Ironside was helped into it. They were told that the Sheriff had gone out with a truck, patrolling on a road the people in the aircraft might perhaps reach – the same road Ironside would have chosen. Up to now they had not had any success, but they didn't want to give up hope yet.

Ironside demanded to be led to the man in charge of the rescue here in Rona. It was Jack Nader, the deputy Sheriff of Rona county, and he was already at the airfield because it had the best radio installation in town.

Nader had been informed of the important visitors he would have to expect: some kind of a high-ranking San Francisco police officer and a General of the Army. Accordingly he was very nervous.

Ironside didn't waste any time. "Deputy Sheriff, we know that Sheriff Biggels caused the aircraft with pilot Adams, two police officers and a prisoner on board to crash. And we have reason to believe that at least one of those persons has survived the accident: we saw a fire in that area. Furthermore we have to assume that the Sheriff still intends to kill the survivor or survivors. So we need you to go out with General Davenport, Mr. Sanger here and someone you trust in order to find the casualties – and immediately."

Nader was completely taken aback by this message. "Sir, you can't in all earnest expect me to believe such preposterous allegations, not without any proof! This is a Sheriff you are talking about, and I have known him for years!"

Davenport, who wasn't used to not being obeyed instantly, opened his mouth to tear strips off the deputy Sheriff.  
Ironside anticipated that and with a gesture he begged him to remain silent.

There was no time for arguments. The lives of his friends were at stake. "Deputy Sheriff, I will give you all the proof you need. Please follow me." At that, he wheeled himself out of the office towards the airfield. He pointed at the helicopter. Assuming that Davenport would be smart enough to know what he wanted him to say, he asked him: "General, please tell the deputy Sheriff how those marks came onto your helicopter!"

You don't become a General if you are a dunce. Davenport was quick on the uptake. "We were shot at with rifles while flying over the forest. Who else than your Sheriff could that have been, Nader?"

Shocked Nader took a second look at the marks. His face turned pale. There was no doubt: They were caused by bullets.  
"Sir, I apologize. Please be ready to go out in ten minutes. I have a new Land Rover, we will take it. I will just call a trusted friend."

A strong farmer with a withered face joined Davenport and Mark, and a motherly woman – Mrs. Nader - brought two big thermos of coffee and several blankets, while her husband added two rifles to the equipment of his Land Rover. Then they took off.

* * *

**Montana, somewhere in the Rocky Mountains**

Suddenly Eve jerked to a halt: "Ed!" And the Sergeant almost let go of Adams.

Surprised Adams looked up to him: "What..." then he heard it himself, and so did Stark: The engine of a truck.

They just stood there, with relief on each of their faces, Eve almost crying.  
Moments later they saw the truck coming into sight. They all stared at it like it was a miracle as it approached.

Something strange happened though: the window of the passenger door opened and a head became visible, not only a head, but also a rifle.

Ed with his military training reacted instantly. He pushed Stark to the left, behind a rock, pulling Adams with him, while several shots rang out.

A shocked Eve, who had been standing two steps further away, was firing back until Ed commanded sharply: "Stop that and take cover!" Automatically she obeyed.

"Those shots were aimed at you, Stark," Ed said, forcing himself to sound calm.  
"Looks as if you got on the wrong side of somebody."  
To Ed it was obvious now that their crash had not been an accident. And nobody had sabotaged their airplane because of him or Eve: Why should they, with Stark on board? The target had to be the prisoner himself.

More shots followed. Like the first ones they didn't do any harm.

Nevertheless Ed knew that they were in a desperate situation. They were too easy a target, they were exhausted and frozen to the bone and they had only two handguns and no reserve ammunition.

This was not the first time he was facing death, and he seemed to snap back into 'Marine mode': He would do what was necessary to keep the adversaries at a distance as long as possible. There was still a chance that the people in the truck were not the only ones on this road. He felt like in Vietnam: His first and foremost duty was to protect the three people with him, especially Eve.

Stark asked: "Why didn't you leave me out there? You know as well as I do that they only want me."

"They would have killed you," Ed replied, as if this would explain everything.

He considered his next move for a second. "I will try to distract them. Give me your coat."

This time Stark didn't object.

Ed assumed that their adversaries had a description of Stark, and the eye-catching coat would be the first thing anybody would notice. He put on the heavy coat. It was far too large for him, but from a distance he would probably be mistaken for Stark.  
"Eve, let's exchange our guns."

Since Ed was her superior, Eve obeyed without question, although she didn't understand.

Ed handed her his own .38 with the full barrel and kept Eve's in his hand – the one in which there were only two rounds left.

Then Ed pointed behind them into the forest: There were some larger rocks, two of them very close together. "Eve, I need you to get over there with Charley and Stark while I run in the opposite direction. Behind those rocks you will be safer. Only one of them can get through between them at a time. Save your ammunition. That way you should be able to defend yourself. Their rifles won't help them there."

Eve understood. Bravely she nodded. She would do what she was expected to do. "But Ed, what about you?" She got no answer.

When Ed stuck his head out to see where their adversaries were, they were already much closer. "I'm Sergeant Ed Brown …" he shouted, but the rest of his introduction was drowned by the noise of further shooting. Either they were out of earshot or they didn't care. This time the bullets came too close to his head for his liking.

"That answers the question," he stated drily – not having to explain the implicit question. He looked back at his three companions. "Ready?"

"Ready," Eve answered while Adams and Stark nodded.

"Ed, be careful!"Eve warned.

Ed considered this as a somewhat daft thing to say, but he appreciated her solicitousness.

Then he jumped out onto the road, crossed it and ran into the forest on the other side of the road as fast as he could. None of the shots hastily fired at him by the people from the truck hit him.

He stopped briefly behind a tree. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Eve and Stark with Adams move towards the big rocks. Three men followed _him_ though. He could only hope that those were all of them.

Ed took a moment to aim carefully at the nearest of his pursuers, an athletic, young man. His bullet hit the man's leg and he went down crying out.

Ed ran on, but the two remaining men were slowly catching up with him, one of them being already quite close. After the past twenty-four hours Ed wasn't quite at his best anymore, and the heavy coat didn't help.  
When he took another look back he stumbled over a tree root and hit his head hard against a rock. He passed out and fell headlong to the ground.

"Shoot him, Roberts!" shouted a gasping Sheriff, when he saw that his friend had reached the man who had fallen down.

Confused Roberts asked back: "You said that Stark is a big, fat man. This one is tall, but slim. That can't be him."

"It must be! The coat..." In the meantime the Sheriff had come by too. He saw that the unconscious man in the fur coat was definitely not Roger Stark.  
Killing an escaping villain and pretending that he had shot the others in self-defense was one thing. Roberts was on his side and would have to go to prison as well if they were to be caught, but he would not let him kill this defenseless man, knowing that he wasn't the criminal they were looking for, but a police officer.

Perplexed he turned around when he heard the sound of an approaching motor vehicle. Like frozen both men stared at the deputy Sheriff and three other men who got out of the Land Rover.

Two of the men approached slowly, ready to fire their rifles. Wordlessly the Sheriff and Roberts dropped their rifles and raised their hands.

The deputy Sheriff felt very awkward when he spoke the words to his former boss: "You have the right to remain silent..."

McGregor, the farmer, picked up the rifles and the gun in the unconscious man's limp hand, then he and Nader forced the Sheriff and Roberts towards the truck.

Meanwhile, the General and Mark had been looking around, unsure if Mark's friends had been with the escaped prisoner or not.

"Ed, Eve, where are you?" shouted Mark.

The answer came out of the narrow between two large rocks. Swiftly Mark and the General ran over there to help the wounded pilot and Eve.

Stark had already left the makeshift hideout walking around the big rocks and crossing the road. He knelt down beside Brown's prone body which was somehow entangled with the too large coat.

For a moment he was not sure if Brown was still alive. A strange thought crossed his mind: should this young man have died, he would most probably have saved three lives – on top of the ones he had probably already saved in the line of duty. That way his life would at least have had a sense, even if it had ended too early. But what if he, Stark, were to die today? What had he ever accomplished that would have made _his_ life valuable? What sense would it have had?  
If given half a chance he would change this from now on; he wanted to become someone who made a difference to others, someone who mattered, like this policeman who against all odds had reached his goal and saved the ones he felt responsible for...

"Sergeant! Sergeant, can you hear me? Were you hit?" he asked anxiously.

Brown stirred. He tried to push his upper body up with his arms. He closed his eyes and shook his head, obviously trying to clear it – without much success, apparently. Nevertheless he continued his attempt to get up.

Stark laid his arm around his back and supported him, helping him onto his feet. "Just take it easy, Sergeant!"

Slowly he guided him towards the Land Rover of the rescue team, glad that, for once, it was him who could help Brown.

The deputy Sheriff and farmer McGregor, who had handcuffed the Sheriff and his accomplice to a side of the truck, approached the group.  
They grabbed Ed's arms. "Come on, Stark, you have caused enough trouble," the deputysaid.  
They dragged Ed along, not trying to hide their anger.  
Ed went with them like a sleepwalker, but Stark objected: "This is Sgt. Brown. _I_ am Roger Stark."

Surprised the men stopped. "But the coat with the fur collar..."

"That's my coat," Stark confirmed.

Recognizing their error and mumbling a short: "Sorry, Sir," the mountain dwellers let go of Ed in order to catch the real prisoner, oddly enough afraid that he might escape.

Ed stumbled for a moment before steadying himself against the Land Rover. He grabbed the jamb of the backdoor and rested his forehead against the roof of the vehicle.

Together with Davenport Eve reached him.

"Ed?" she asked worriedly.

The General looked from Eve's face, which was stained with dried blood, to the exhausted Sergeant, whose hand was closed so tightly around the door frame that the knuckles were white.

"Looks as if you all had a hard time," he commented.

He wanted to help the Sergeant into the Land Rover, but Ed didn't move... couldn't.

Very gently Eve tried to have him release his tight grip. "Ed – You can let go now. Everything is taken care of."

Davenport braced himself to prevent him from falling if necessary. He had seen physically stronger men break down during or after less strain.

He did not know where the Sergeant got the strength from, but he squared his shoulders and turned around. "I'm fine," he asserted in a raspy voice.

"Sure," Davenport answered drily.


	7. Chapter 7

**Rona, Montana:**

Since the sheriff's truck had a radio, Ironside had been alerted that the rescue team with his friends, the pilot and the prisoners were due any minute now. Although the snowfall was heavy again the Chief was waiting in front of the doctor's office where the patients would have to be treated.

Out of the snow flurry a truck not unlike the paddy wagon appeared, followed by Nader's Land Rover. They parked a few yards down the road.

The driver – McGregor - helped Eve out of the truck. She looked tiny and frail, wearing Ed's coat over her own. Ironside turned pale when he saw her bloodstained face. "Eve, you will be taken care of immediately," he said in a gentle voice.

She smiled at him reassuringly. "It's good to see you too, Chief." Then she was guided away by a man in a white coat – the local doctor.

Ironside felt a pang of guilt: He had known all along that he should have been there to protect her. Of course his mind told him that he couldn't have been. But he nevertheless felt responsible for exposing her to such dangers. After all he had been the one recruiting her.

A stretcher on which Adams lying was carried into the same direction. There was no hospital in this little town, but the doctor had a room where he could keep patients for monitoring.

Ironside was still chewing on his self-reproaches when he saw Ed approach with his prisoner. Stark had no handcuffs on, which was _not_ the way the Sergeant had been taught to bring in a prisoner.

This fact added to the Chief's unsettledness caused by Eve's sight.

"Sergeant! You were in charge, were you not?" he asked. Out of sorrow about Eve his voice sounded harsher than intended.

Ed came to a stop in front of him. "Yessir," he answered hoarsely. In the fading light his square-jawed face looked stony and grey, older than when he had left San Francisco.

"You promised me to take care of Eve."

"Yessir." Ed could not withstand Ironside's glare. He looked away. He had broken his promise in more ways than one.

"Book the prisoner, Sergeant."

Ed nodded and headed towards the small prison of Rona.

The constable at the Sheriff's office had already been alerted about Stark's arrival. Seeing what condition the Sergeant was in he asked: "Sir, are you all right?"

Ed nodded and turned around without even signing the transfer papers. The constable didn't insist. When the door was closed behind him Ed thought that he should feel relieved: For more than 24 hours he had doubted that Eve, Adams and himself would live to see this moment. But now all he felt was a wave of tiredness. He steadied himself against the wall behind him. Then he slowly slipped to the ground. Again his head came to rest on his drawn-up knees.

* * *

"Bob, the storm has almost died down," Davenport told the Chief, pulling him out of his thoughts. "The snow is no problem, as long as there's no ice building up on the rotor. So I have to take my little toy back. It's too expensive to stand around overnight in this jerkwater town."

"I don't know how to thank you, Ben. I'm sure you saved my people's lives."

"That's what friends are for. Call me any time you need me... or my stuff!" Ben laughed.

Once he had left, Ironside hurried over to the doctor's office.

"You will have to wait a few minutes until the doctor has examined the young lady!" he was told.

Eve came out of the examining room shortly afterwards. Her face had been cleaned and except for a few scratches she looked just very pale and weary.

"I'm all right, let's go to the hotel," she begged, and Ironside went along with her.

The hotel was right across the street. Mark was expecting them there. He had organized rooms for them all and some coffee for Eve was ready.

"No, thank you, no more coffee. I have had about a gallon of sweet, hot coffee in the truck," Eve smiled. "Would you mind if I went straight to bed?"

Of course nobody did. "Are you sure that you don't need anything?" asked Ironside.

She shook her head no and left, not with her usual easy steps, but slowly as she was obviously tired.

"I would have liked to hear more about the whole case from her, but she's worn out, that's more than understandable. I'll see if I can get a statement from Adams. And I wonder why Ed isn't here yet. Please go down to the police station and see what's keeping him there, will you?"

Mark nodded, and Ironside crossed the street again.

The doctor had just finished the cast on Adams' leg. Washing his hands he addressed the Chief as he wheeled inside:

"Your people have done a terrific job setting this bone and splinting the leg under those difficult circumstances. Tell them that they can start as my assistants tomorrow, if they want to!"

At that he left. He had to tend to his third patient, the young man with the flesh wound in his leg.

Ironside was still staring at the door even after the doctor had closed it behind him.

"You seem surprised," Adams smiled. "Don't tell me you don't know exactly what these kids are capable of! Your little Eve is one of the bravest, most courageous girls I've ever seen, and if I had a son I would want him to be like your Sergeant Brown. If the purpose of prisons is to change people for the better, you can skip this part with Stark. Brown achieved that within 24 hours ... by just doing what he considered to be his duty."

Ironside shook his head. It wasn't that he hadn't seen the potential in Ed and Eve. After all it was the reason why he had chosen them for his team. But it was a new experience to hear from a third party that he had been right all along – and that they were already perfectly capable of coping with such challenging circumstances without him. He was proud of his staff and glad that his decision was confirmed.

"You must be dead tired. But I _really_ would like to hear your version of the story."

"Me, tired? That's some idea! I will tell this story until the end of my days to anybody who is patient or stupid enough to listen. Didn't know that there were different versions of it though."

"Up to now I haven't heard a single one," Ironside laughed. Finally the tension had subsided and he could relax.

* * *

Meanwhile Mark had put on his coat and picked up Ed's, since Eve obviously didn't need it anymore. Although the wind had diminished the snowfall had intensified again. So he noticed the white, motionless figure on the ground only when he had almost reached the door of the police station. At first he took the lad for a bum. He shook him gently, because the man would freeze to death out there in this weather. But then he was shocked to realize that it was Ed... his friend in his soaked sweater and shaking like a leaf in a storm.

"Hey, come on man. The Chief sent me to get you. Can you stand up?"

He pulled Ed to his feet and placed the coat over his shoulders. Ed had to be knackered and frozen stiff; nevertheless he walked at Mark's side back up to the hotel. Mark shook his head in disbelief. He thought that this might be one of the reasons why the Chief had picked out this man to work for him: He didn't even know the word 'quit'. He would complain as long as it didn't matter, but as soon as things became really rough he would go on and on and do whatever he was expected to do…

* * *

_Author's note: Epilogue to come_


	8. Chapter 8

Epilogue

**Rona, Montana**

Ironside sat deep in thoughts at his breakfast table. Hardly a month ago had Eve told him that he didn't have to congratulate Ed, but that he should at least tell him when he had done a good job. Perhaps Ed would gain more self-confidence and be less inhibited in Ironside's presence if he did. When the Chief saw his Sergeant enter the hotel breakfast room, he knew that he had to say something. Ed still looked exhausted and pale. Seeing Eve with her beautiful smile seemed to cheer him up a little, but he didn't dare look at his boss. As if he hoped to go unnoticed he sat down as far away from him as possible, looking down at the empty plate in front of him.

"Listen, Ed, there are different ways to keep a promise..." the Chief started, and to Eve and Mark it sounded as if he would choke on the words. A confused sergeant looked from the Chief to Eve to Mark and back.

Ironside tried hard to remember what exactly Eve had said – Eve who always found the right words to cheer up people. Then he recalled: "What I want to say is – Ed, you did right."*

Eve and Mark broke out in laughter. Ed, who had not heard this a few weeks ago, didn't know what to make of their hilarity. But as even the Chief started to grin widely he relaxed and assumed that things were more or less back to normal, which was the best thing that could happen.

* * *

**San Francisco, Ironside's office**

_About 15 months later, February 1969**  
_

Stark walked into Ironside's office. He had served his prison sentence and looked visibly thinner. Ed and Eve had often visited him in prison, and they had talked the Chief into using his contacts to help Stark get a decent job.

Stark greeted the team cheerfully, then addressed the Chief: "Sir, I have made quite some mistakes in my life, and it is likely that I will make some more. Besides…," he said as he backhanded Ed slightly onto his flat stomach to show there was still a considerable physical difference between them, "…I may never be Sgt. Brown; but perhaps I'll manage to at least stay on the straight and narrow, and do something useful with my life now that you have provided me with a serious job."

Ironside smiled at him encouragingly but what he said was not meant for Stark alone: "Like Sgt. Brown you are entitled to some mistakes, as long as you do your best. But you don't have to be Sgt. Brown. Just be Roger Stark."

* * *

_*Tagged for Murder, Oct. 1967_

_**__after "The Prophecy"; Ed has just been rescued and is feeling quite embarrassed because he let himself be caught_  


_Author's note: _  
_Thank you, dear "Lemonpig", for your indefatigable beta-reading! Without you my stories would be gibberish._  
_Thank you, dear readers and reviewers - including the anonymous ones! Without you, writing would be only half as much fun!_  
_The next story is already written, but due to a technical problem there may be a delay._


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